


One Dog, One Bone

by Patchouli (lifelesslyndsey)



Series: How To Teach An Old Dog New Tricks [14]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, I repeat, IronShock - Freeform, Jealousy, Kissing, NO LONGER PRE-DARCY/TONY, no longer pre-IronShock, this is not a drill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 08:04:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13095891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifelesslyndsey/pseuds/Patchouli
Summary: “She’s pretty.”Tony turns, sharp and short, to look at her.  “What?”“Bethany.” She doesn’t look at him, stares instead at the rising numbers above the elevator door. They’re going to the penthouse to meet Pepper. It’s a long ride up. “She’s pretty.”Black hair, green eyes, about as tall as Tony, with wide hips and long legs. Yeah, Tony agrees. Bethany is pretty. Tony gets the uneasy sense that he should absolutely not agree





	One Dog, One Bone

**Author's Note:**

> DID YOU READ THE TAGS, MY FRIENDS. 
> 
> the term one dog, one bone is basically "this is mine, you cannot have it" in dog talk.

“Come on, we’ve gotta go make a nerds whole entire  _ day _ ,” Darcy tells him, hooking her arm into his and pulling him out of the lab. 

 

Tony allows it. This close to the Expo, there isn’t any point in getting too deep into a new project.  She mentioned apologizing to Aerial Development for absconding with the ProtoJet the day before, and Tony’s not so dumb as to assume she means to use her words.  Every bit like him, Darcy prefers to show, rather than tell. 

 

He follows Darcy into the elevators, growing ever more tense with every dropping number.  Aerial and Naval Development has its own floor in the sublevels of Stark Tower not because it's especially important, but because so much of its innovation is fucking  _ huge _ , and it requires a massive thirty-yard docking door for getting the shit out once it’s been built. Not to mention Material Storage. The basement has its own basement just for that.  

 

There are a staggering fifteen  _ underground _ levels of Stark Tower, with a few outcropped sections built away and below from the infrastructure skeleton roots, for the more explosive research. NASA bought the patent on Tony’s recycled air circulation system, which easily paid for the heat-resistant, high tensile alloy reinforcements. He could detonate an actual fucking Nuke, and the penthouse wouldn’t even feel it.  The whole place smells clean, and fresh, with high definition panels lining the walls, displaying the outside in real-time, like something out of fucking Hogwarts. It looks like any other level, with a New York skyline, but Tony hate, hate,  _ hates _ it. While he’s known for dipping down into R and D on the regular, he avoids the deeper underground levels. 

 

He’s not a fan of being underground, anymore. 

 

Darcy keeps her arm tucked into his own, in a way that makes it seem like he’s leading  _ her _ . It’s subtle, in stark contrast to everything else about her, and Tony appreciates it immensely. 

 

True to the scientists that they are, they don’t notice Tony or Darcy, as they step off the elevator and make their way through the partitioned expanse.  The Development floor is tidy in a way that Tony’s lab never is, with sections and platforms in even, numbered rows. It’s orderly chaos; hulking, behemoth machinery craning up from the plinths like Lovecraftian monsters.  The Protojet is back where it belongs, dead center of the floor like a prized peacock. Tony doubts that it’ll be put to market anytime soon; the world isn’t ready for small, personal aircraft. People still struggle to use blinkers when they drive cars. Still, it’s a show stopper and that’s what people come for. That’s what people  _ pay _ for. 

 

Darcy saunters up to a partitioned station, a circular raise partition with a round desk and a balding, forty-year-old man buried to his balls in matching manilla folders.  Tony's trailing at her side like a dissafected scarecrow, wordless for all his nonchalance.  Untangling herself from Tony’s grip, she hikes herself up onto the desk, crossing her legs at the knees. The tip of her shoe brushing his pant leg is a single point of absolutely necessary contact. She’s wearing a dove-grey pencil skirt, skin tight from waist to knees, and a peachy pink cardigan, every button fit to burst where they’re fastened over her tits. It’s very librarian, with her hair pinned up on her head, ala shameless nerd-bait.   

 

“Doctor Feldstein,” she calls,  angling her body to face the bald guy who hasn’t noticed her sitting on his shit, so deep in backlogged acquisitions. He looks up, startling at the sight of Tony behind her, eyes going wide in his head. Tony grins. They know who he is of course; his face is memorable. But the rarity of its appearance in these parts makes it more. He’s a God among these men, and it’s a heady thing. 

 

“I---Uh. Yes? Yes. I’m him.” He looks from Tony, back to Darcy. “I uh...” 

 

“Darcy Lewis.” Darcy grins, sunnily and holds out her hand for him to shake. 

 

“Pepper Potts assistant,” Tony adds. Darcy has a tendency to downplay her part on Stark Enterprise, and he takes great joy in ruining it for her.  He crowds in close beside her, and hooks his chin over her shoulder. “Are you heading the ProtoJet project?” 

 

“I---Yes?” For a doctor, he doesn’t seem entirely competent and Tony immediately dislikes him. “I’m head of Aerial Development.” 

 

“Do you...Actually, develop anything?” Tony eyes him skeptically. While he understands the requirement of acquisition forms, he’s never seen a scientist so happily bury himself in them.  Department Heads usually, and well within their rights, have grunts do the paperwork. “Like...Physically. Do you build things? With your hands.” 

 

Feldstein hesitates, and the three-second pause makes Tony twitch. The man is, he’s sure, a genius. Stark doesn’t accept anything less. However, it’s not noticeable genius. “I lead the projects.” 

 

“So....” Tony stares at him. “You watch  _ other _ people build things.” 

 

“....Yes?” Feldstein doesn’t seem to see the problem in this, and Tony can’t bring himself to tell him.  It’s probably a cushy job, to watch other people do shit. But he can’t imagine having a fucking brilliant brain and quarter million dollar education and....being middle management. Gross. 

  
  


“You oversee all the projects?” Darcy picks up a folder, a random one, from Dr.Feldstein’s desk and makes a show of reading it. “The Protojet. Is that your design?”

 

“This is  _ development _ ,” Dr. Feldstein explains, slowly as if Darcy was a small child. She tenses, eyes snapping up even as she tosses the folder aside. “Not design.”  

  
  


Tony throws an arm over her shoulder and traps her foot between his knees before she kicks the man on principle.  “Mr. Feldstein,” Darcy says, with twice as much condescension. “Do you like your job?” 

 

“It’s Doctor Feldstein,” the man corrects, mildly. “I’m not sure what you’re---” 

 

“James Something,” Tony cuts in, already bored. “McDaniels? Is there a James McDaniels?” He calls to the room at large.  He signed off on the project, years prior, and has reviewed several updates. Feldstein's name is all over the paperwork, but it’s McDaniels baby. James McDaniels transferred from Design to Development just as the prototype was slated, along with a slew of other aerial experts.   

 

A kid - because he can’t be older than twenty-four- peeks his head up from the inside of the Proto Jet's cockpit. “Jimmy,” he says, uncertainty. “Was there something wrong with the jet? I watched the news feed. She isn’t designed to invert---”

 

“Yeah,” Darcy drawls, rolling her eyes. Feldstein's bullshit has her short-tempered and snappish.  Tony hip checks her a little, and she huffs.  “Jarvis told me. He refused the maneuver. I had to override.” 

 

Tony did not know that. He feels like he should definitely already know that. “You told me you didn’t know how to fly it!” 

 

“I didn’t. And I don’t. But I needed to flip it and Jarvis refused so---Stop looking at me like that, no one died. And I rolled it out, it’s fine.”  She waves her hand, dismissively. “So this is your baby? Your design.” 

 

James. Jimmy, blinks at her. “I...Yeah.  _ No _ . I have a team.” He scratches at the back of his head, a nervous habit that reminds Tony strangely of Steve. “We submitted the design to Stark Corp six years ago, as part of a scholarship program. We didn’t win, but after graduation, we were recruited. I submitted the project in my name four years ago, and they picked it up.” He looks like he’s not entirely comfortable being in charge. He turns his head and calls over his shoulder. “Bethany! Joanna!”  Looking back at Darcy, and Tony, nervously, he clears his throat. 

 

“Both your assistants are women?” It isn’t Darcy who asks, but Tony. “Ooh buddy. You don't even know what you’ve just done.” Darcy’s read him the fucking riot act about Women In Science. Tony knows how important it is, to her. 

 

“They’re not my assistants. They’re just as much developers as I am. They were top of their class?” Jimmy stands up a little straighter, defensive, and Tony wants to cackle. “Joannah was nominated for a fields medal, and Bethany graduated with a masters in four years, Mr. Stark---” 

 

“Shhh,” Darcy presses her finger to his mouth and shakes her head. “You’re harshing my happy, buddy. Did you hear him, Tony, they’re not assistants. They’re just as much developers as he is.” 

 

“Do I look like the kind of man who’d disapprove of women?” Tony asks the room at large before his gaze settles back on Jimmy. “I gave Pepper my company. And don’t get me started on this one. She picks out my underwear and she scored you all several billion dollars in funding. I love women. Women are great.” 

 

Darcy stares at him flatly for a long moment, before turning back to Jimmy.  Bethany and Joanna linger nervously behind him, though Tony couldn’t tell you which was which. “Congratulations,” she says, to all three. “Pack a bag. You’ll be presenting the ProtoJet at the Stark Expo in three days.” 

 

“ _ What _ ?” Jimmy reels, eyes flying to Tony as if he might deny Darcy’s claim. “Are you---Are you for real? Department Heads usually--- Doctor Feldstein---” 

 

“I’m in charge of the Expo,” Darcy tells him, in a firm, no-nonsense voice. “And I say who presents.  And Doctor Feldstein can present himself to material acquisition where I’ll be transferring him after the Expo.”  She looks at Tony, who nods. He doubts the man will even notice. “I stole your jet,  _ broke _ part of it when I forced the cockpit open, and revealed it weeks before planned. Consider this is my apology.” She slaps him on the arm. “Honestly, I was just going to let you tag along with Doctor Feldstein, but I’m a sucker for female scientists and you won me over with your heartfelt but totally unnecessary defensive of them.” She looks to Joanna and Bethany, settling on the smaller, more nervous of the pair. “You get to fly the plane. Don’t argue with me, I sign your checks.” She winks, and hooks her arm into Tony’s again, before tilting her head toward the jet. “What's your deal?” 

 

The mousy blonde with big, brown eyes blushes a violent shade of red but manages to speak with a modicum of intelligence. “I built the reverse magnetic gravity repulsor,” her gaze slides to the ProtoJet. “It uh...It makes it float. Jimmy had more of a hand in the aeronomics - uh, high flying,” she adds, for Darcy’s benefit. “But we thought it could be useful to have something more operable in current society. The Protojet can hover between two and five feet off the ground, making it optimal for any terrain. City, desert, it works over water if it’s less than thirty meters deep. It works with the Earth's own magnetic pulses, so there's very little disruption outside of your typical air displacement.  No thrust charge or wind force.” 

 

_ Flying cars.  _  Tony can’t escape them. “What did you do,” he asks the other woman.  

 

She stares at him for a long moment, and Tony thinks she isn’t going to speak at all. Then, she snaps her gum, blows a bubble and shrugs. “I made it go fast.” 

 

“ _ Too _ fast,” Jimmy adds, with a wry grin. “The original design would have broken the sound barrier, but that’s not...really. Optimal, for civilian travel.” 

 

“You’re Bethany Noble,” Tony notes, belatedly. Her face is vaguely familiar, but the Noble name is known for speed technology. “Richard Noble's daughter?” 

 

“Niece.” She side eyes his, mouth pulling into a frown. 

 

“Did you help him in the Thrust SSC Mark 4 project?” Tony remembers the reveal of the car - breaking the sound barrier at a whopping 834 miles per hour on land.  He hadn’t been overly interested in thrust capacitors at that point, but their use of magnetic fields has been fascinating.  “McDaniels says you graduated early.” 

 

Bethany grins a little, the defensive posture easing from her shoulders. Tony gets it; it’s not easy being known for someone else's notoriety. Tony still has to defend himself against his father's dated genius. “I might have helped. This doesn’t use thrust-force thought. It weighs too much and burns to much fuel. It’s faster when hovering because it reinforces the same magnetic pulse it uses to float. The civilian model at only goes 250 miles per hour ground, but this one--- What are we looking at Jimmy? 950 ground? Like half that air-side.” 

 

Tony frowns. “You said it broke the sound barrier?”        

 

Joanna, who’s already wandered away to another mechanical monster, calls out from beneath an engine block, “yeah but that one kept exploding!” 

 

Bethany shrugs again. “On a bigger aircraft, a magnetic repulsion would have sustained. But on a little guy like this, it kept frying the re-circuits.  We hadn’t solved the problem before it was slated for the expo.” 

 

“I could look at the specs after Vegas?” Tony’s already thinking of ways to re-route the re-circuit when Darcy pulls herself out of the bend of his arm. “Maybe, hardwire the---”

 

“I have a lunch meeting with Pepper. Did you want to stay and talk shop?” Her face is...Tony can’t quite place the expression on her face until he does. 

 

She looks like Natasha. Blank. Neutral. He doesn’t get it. He also doesn’t want her to leave him in the caves. “No - No, I’ll come up with you. I uh--- Here, take my card.” He digs his wallet out of his pocket and slides a card into Bethany’s hand. “We can set something up after the expo.”        

 

Darcy’s already turning away, calling out over her shoulder, heels clacking against the floor.  “I’ll have my assistant bring down your tickets and room reservations.  We’re springing for suites. When the expos over I’m going to steal the jet again.” 

 

Jimmy hesitates, brow furrowing. “Uh---” 

 

“It’s technically the property of Stark Enterprise,” Tony reminds them, mildly. “See you in Vegas, kid.” 

 

She doesn’t tuck herself against him in the elevators, takes a stand two feet to his left instead, her arms crossed beneath her chest.  Tony has absolutely no fucking clue what he did. He toys with the idea of asking; it’s rare that Darcy’s mad at him, after all. Other people, yeah. Other people are always mad at Tony. But Darcy--- Tony doesn’t like it. 

 

“She’s pretty.” 

 

Tony turns, sharp and short, to look at her.  “What?” 

 

“Bethany.” She doesn’t look at him, stares instead at the rising numbers above the elevator door. They’re going to the penthouse to meet Pepper. It’s a long ride up. “She’s pretty.” 

 

Black hair, green eyes, about as tall as Tony, with wide hips and long legs. Yeah, Tony agrees. Bethany is pretty. Tony gets the uneasy sense that he should absolutely not agree. “Okay?” He makes it a question, even though it’s not. 

 

Darcy fiddles with her phone, flipping through emails. “You could have stayed.” 

 

“I didn’t want to.” Had they not been in the fucking bowels, maybe Tony would have. He’d been interested in what she had to say, interested in extrapolating on the present data, solving the problem. Did personal aircraft need to break the sound barrier in the air? No, not at all. But that didn’t mean Tony didn’t want to do it anyway. He likes a challenge, a mystery, and---

 

“You should ask her out.” Darcy still hasn’t looked up at her phone, although Tony knows full well she can’t have that many fucking emails. Catherine and Lacy handle most of that for her, passing along only the required messages. 

 

Tony doesn’t like the dismissive posture, the space between them, the careful Natasha face. “Maybe I will,” he says, a little more belligerently than is absolutely necessary. “Unless you were planning on asking her?” Maybe she thought Tony was poaching? But she hadn’t said so much as a word to Bethany before Tony had?

 

She laughs, and it’s not her Tony-Laugh, or even a particularly nice one. It’s mean. “She wouldn’t have me,” she mutters, swiping a little more angrily across her phone. “It must get really fucking boring hanging out with me all the time. You should ask her out.” 

 

Tony just...Has no fucking clue why she’s so angry. He really doesn’t. And he doesn’t like not knowing. “You are anything but boring.” 

 

“Yes, I’m really fun at parties.” She looks up, mouth pulled into a thin smile. Tony has the inexplicable urge to hug her. “But you can’t really talk to me about anything important. I’m just saying. You should ask her out. Might be good for you to spend some time on your own level, or whatever.” 

 

They’re on the thirty-seventh floor now, thirty-three more to go. “My level---- Darcy, what the fuck?” 

 

“I’m just  _ saying _ \---You’re smart, Tony. You should...See people who can keep up with you.” She shrugs, carelessly, and turns her gaze back to the numbers. “You and Bethany could talk about the magnet circus thingy.” 

 

Tony knows, without a doubt, that Darcy could recall with perfect clarity magnetic repulsor re-circuit. He doesn’t, however, understand why she’s choosing right now to play the airhead card. With  _ him _ , of all people but it pisses him off. “What is your fucking problem?” 

 

Her eyebrows fly high, but she just smiles. It’s the same smile Natasha had tried - the understanding, encouraging one. “I don’t have a problem. Do you want me to clear your schedule? You could take her out the night before our---” 

 

Tony slams the big red stop button on the elevator, and it grinds to a halt  _ Floor 62 _ flashing bright over the door. “Stop it,” he barks, anger at  _ not knowing what the fuck is wrong _ coming to the surface, shaky hot rage making his palms itch. “What in the fuck is your problem,” he asks again, slower this time, stilted. 

 

She drops the act, soft smile folding in on itself, a dying star. “Do you want to fuck her?” 

 

“I’m sure I’d enjoy it but it honestly hadn’t crossed my mind.” He'd been thinking about Darcy's sweater, and then magnetic pulse drive recirculation and very little in between. “I asked her about the fucking jet. You’re the one who dragged me down there. Answer my question.” 

 

“Fuck you,” she snaps, leaning against the side of elevator now, as far from Tony as she can get. “You’re not the boss of me.” 

 

Tony wants to touch her. Hug her. Shake her until she makes sense. He does neither, just moves himself to the opposite side of the elevator. “I don’t understand why you’re being like this. Are you mad that I  _ didn’t _ ask her out? I---Darcy, I legitimately have no fucking clue why you’re being such a bitch right now.” 

 

Her mouth curls into a smile he’s only ever seen her flash at people she’s about to destroy. “That’s me, Darcy Lewis; dumb bitch.” 

 

“I didn’t call you dumb--- Darcy,” Tony’s heart does something stupid in his chest, missing a beat and dropping to boil itself in his stomach acid. “Darce’, I don’t think you’re dumb.” 

 

She rolls her eyes, mouth still pulled into a thin-lipped smile. “I know I’m not stupid,” she mutters, still not looking at him. “But you obviously - I mean. I don’t really bring much to the conversation.” 

 

“That’s not true at all.”  Tony’s whole being wouldn’t light up in anticipation every time she opens her mouth if that was the case. He loves listening to her. Her sarcastic commentary, her wit, her curious mind. The way she makes grown men quake in fear with words alone. He doesn't even mind the terrible puns.  “Darcy, I think you’re brilliant.” 

 

“ _ You’re _ brilliant. I do okay.” She shrugs, still wrapped in herself, arms circling her middle. “I mean, I’m a college drop out, Tony. A  _ soft-science _ drop out.” 

 

“If I’m not allowed to call it soft-science, neither are you.” He steps forward, moves close enough to tilt her chin up. “They’re not better than you because they have degrees. Who signs their checks, huh?”

 

She pulls herself away from his touch and it hurts Tony more than he’d like. “Circumstance and nepotism sign their checks.” When she smiles, it’s real and real sad.  She leans past him to push the button again, and the elevator jerks into motion. “Sorry. I---Yeah, that was bitchy. Sorry. You really should ask her out though, Tony.  You deserve someone who understands you.” 

 

She sounds, inexplicably, jealous. A barbed curl of hope coils it’s way around his heart, sinking deep enough to draw blood. She sounds  _ jealous _ .  She sounds like he felt when he found her in Bruce’s lap. Natasha’s words rise up like smoke, choking him. Maybe.  _ Maybe _ . 

 

“You understand me.” He doesn’t mean to say it, but it falls from his mouth anyway. “You’re not a bitch.”  _ I fucking love you.  _

 

“Ah well. It’s one title I’ve actually earned all by myself.” She winks at him, but it doesn’t make Tony’s stomach flutter. It makes his heart ache, and Tony's not used to feeling like this. 

“I’m not asking her out,” he says at length, turning to stand beside her.  He tucks his hands into his pockets, even though he’d like nothing more than to tuck her into the bend of his arm again. “I don’t want Bethany.” 

 

Darcy takes her stand beside him, hands folded over one another in front of her.  It feels awkward. Looks awkward too, in the reflection in the shiny chrome doors. “Why not?” 

 

“Because she’s probably not fun at parties.” He watches her in the reflection, watches her stare at her own feet. “Because...Because she got a masters in four years, and while that kind of perseverance is admirable, it’s also boring as shit. It's what boring people do. Boring scientists who wanna dissect life but not live it.  Because she probably judges people who drink whiskey for breakfast and have orgies with their bosses. Because she’d never share a hooker.  Because she wears ugly shoes. Because she went to CalTech and I went to MIT and that kind of alumni rivalry cannot be challenged, Darce. Because when I asked her what she did, she  _ snapped her gum at me _ . I can keep going.” 

 

“I snap my gum at you all the time.” She’s smiling a little. Just a little.

 

“Yeah, but I like you.”  _ I love you. _  He feels reckless at even the mild admission, but then, that’s them. Two reckless idiots.  Tony wants to shove her against the elevator doors and kiss her senseless, kiss all the doubt out of her until she fucking gets it. They’d be so perfect, they’d be divine. With Darcy at his side, even as she is, they’re prepared to take on the world.  The research funding is just the tip of what Darcy’s going to do.  Stark International is happening, and Darcy might not know it, but she’s a part of that.  She’s going to change the world, the way she wants. Tony can’t imagine what they might accomplish as  _ more _ . He can’t think of a single person who's ever understood him so deeply and still likes him as a person. It’s sad but true. Tony’s not a terrible person, exactly, but peeling back his layers doesn’t reveal the Prince Charming within. He’s a dick, he’s rude, he’s self-involved, he has a drinking problem. He buys himself out of most his problems instead of handling them like a mature adult.  Most people (Pepper) hold out hope that he’s worth sticking around for at all, and he isn’t, by most standards. But Darcy...Darcy seems to genuinely like him. As is. It’s baffling as it is novel, really. 

 

Tony thinks there could be more. So very, very easily. 

 

“Darcy, I like you. I don’t care that you’re not a scientist. Honestly, I don’t actually like most scientists.  It’s hard to make friends with conceited, self-absorbed, easily distracted people when you, yourself are conceited, self-absorbed and easily distracted. I like people who...Don’t tell me what to do. Who dance on tables and make grown men cry.  Women who steal jets and pistol whip assholes for running their mouth. That’s my aesthetic. I’m into it.” 

 

“People,” Darcy says, very, very softly. “People who steal jets, and pistol whip assholes for running their mouth.” 

 

“No not people. Just you. You,” Tony corrects, firmly. “I like you. I like hearing what you have to say. You’re fucking smart, and you don’t need some shiny degree to prove it. All you need is your mouth and your mind and your bad attitude. You’re not here because of circumstance or nepotism any more than the rest of us.” He pauses, bites his tongue on a secret he really shouldn’t say. It’s an absolute betrayal, one Pepper would never forgive him for, but he doesn’t care in that moment. Doesn’t care that it would hurt Pepper, because it’ll help him and that’s the kind of person Tony is, at the end of the day and that’s the kind of person Darcy understands.  “Pepper only got the position as my assistant because Obadiah was fucking her mother.  And I’m only Tony Stark because my mother fucked my father.  Nepotism. Circumstance. It’s a bullshit part of life, but it doesn’t make you less. Shit,  Pepper got the position as CEO because she was fucking  _ me _ . Does that make her any less a total boss at it?” 

 

“No.” Darcy looks at him, from the corner of her eye and through her lashes. “So, me fucking Phil to get where I am is pretty much just rite of passage?” 

 

“Ask yourself, honestly ask yourself...If you weren’t fucking Coulson, would he have left you to rot at SHIELD?”  Tony doesn’t have much to say in the way of credit for how SHIELD runs, but he can say with genuine honesty that Agent Coulson cares about his assets. “To my knowledge, he’s not fucking Nat or Barton, and he’s just as protective.” 

 

She purses her mouth and frowns before nodding. “No, no you’re right. He’d have pulled me, regardless. 

“Circumstance brought you to New Mexico.” Tony breathes in, and out, and feels the world right itself beneath his feet.  Darcy is every bit his equal, she’s him, and Tony knows  _ her _ . “Everything else was you. This is all you, boo.” 

 

“Okay, but who’d  _ you _ fuck to get here?”  She winks, and laughs, and shuffles just close enough to lay her head on his shoulder.  

“As Tony Stark, the known womanizer, asshole, and pedantic dick who people have actually attempted to casually assassinate? Or Iron Man, vigilante above-the-law pedantic dick who people try to  _ blow up _ ?” Tony’s not gentle when he crushes her against him, pulling her to his chest.  He drags his stubble across her hair and holds her tighter when she squirms. Darcy, for all that she really is absolutely brilliant, has to be the most oblivious person in the world. How can she not possibly see Tony’s gigantic, bizarre, mind-boggling  _ heart boner _ for her? Tony’s about as subtle as a dick in the ass.  “Why, I believe I took the advice of many, many people and went and fucked myself.” 

 

The elevator dings, loud and clear and they step off into the foyer, curving to the left to the private elevators for the penthouse and Avengers floors. “People are stupid.” Darcy pushes the  _ P  _ button. “And they can go fuck themselves.” 

 

“Darcy.” He wants to say more, do more, fit himself to her so tight until the world couldn’t pull them apart. But the elevator dings, and Pepper’s there, smiling and pretty and familiar. Tony’s never wanted to see her less in his life. He doesn’t do interrupted well, his ego doesn’t allow it, and he still has things to say to Darcy Lewis. 

He loves Pepper though. He does. Even if, right now, he can’t remember why. 

 

Her mint green dress makes her hair seem redder than strawberry blonde. It’s cut differently, in a sleek, chin-length bob. Tony absolutely hates it, thinks it makes her look older, knows rationally that’s his irritation talking, and bites his tongue on any comment. But even so, she looks  _ lovely _ , pristine serenity against his chaos. She pulls Darcy into a hug, fond familiarity coloring her grin.  Tony rarely sees them together; with Darcy running Home Base, Pepper’s spent more time traveling and laying the groundwork for Stark International. But he knows they talk every day, over conference calls and video chat, both personal and business.  They’re friends. 

She hugs Tony too, pulling him in tight. She smells like jasmine and vanilla and it makes Tony’s heart ache a little. They were never right for each other, but Pepper is his dearest friend and he misses her even now when he wishes she was in Sudan or Milan or Belize. “I made reservations at  _ Oiseau Bleu.”  _ It’s the same swanky French restaurant Tony took them on their first date, and Pepper’s been smitten with since.  She eyes Tony’s jeans - oil stained and frayed at the hems where he never bothered to get them tailored before giving him a  _ look _ . 

 

He doesn’t want to go out. He wants to get Darcy alone to finish their conversation and fuck her and love her and steal jets and throw cheese-its across the lab so the baby-bots have something to do. He’s hyper-fixating, can feel his mind pulling away from everything that isn’t making that happen and nows not a good time, but Science rarely waits. “Can’t we just order in? I can get French delivered.” Pepper raises a single, well-shaped brow. “Fine,” he mutters, even though she didn’t ask or tell him anything. “What about Darcy?” 

 

“What about her?” She looks at Darcy, in her smart gray skirt and cashmere cardigan. Her eyes linger on her shoes (light brown oxford ankle boots with a kitten heel) as they always do, and she nods to herself, perfectly satisfied.  “Darcy looks fantastic. Go change.” 

 

“Yes, Mother Potts,” Tony grumbles, striding through the foyer.  He has no problem dressing to the nines and stepping out on the town, but he  _ hates _ being told what to do about as much as any respectable five years old.  It makes him prickly and belligerent. He tells himself he loves Pep, that they’re friends, that the part of his brain insisting he doesn’t have time for her right now is an asshole.  She doesn’t fit in his immediate plans. He forgets why he missed her. He wonders when she’s leaving. He’s being an asshole. 

 

Pepper excuses herself to the restrooms and Darcy follows him into his room. “You don’t want to go. You wanna ditch her?” She tilts her head toward the foyer. “I could tell her something blew up in the lab and you had to go.” 

 

_ Yes _ . “No,” Tony makes himself say because he loves Pep, he does. “I haven’t seen her in ages.” 

 

“You want me to put something skanky on?”  She leans against the doorframe of the closet. “She won’t ask me to change, but she might not make us go out and eat snails and shit.” 

 

Tony laughs a helpless little sound. It’s too soft, and not amused enough. It sounds pitiful. “No,” he says again, scratching at his beard. “We love her and we miss her. She’s been gone for months. Fancy bull shit is just how she says _ I love you.   _ Going along with it is how we say I love you back.” 

 

“Fine. True.” Darcy smiles, her own little laugh escaping her. “You two have that in common.” 

 

“That’s about it, really.” He sighs and pulls his shirt over his head. “Better get dressed before she comes in here and picks out my clothes too.” 

 

“I  _ did _ miss her. Fine. Let’s go say  _ I love you Pepper _ , but can we be a little petty about it? Just a  _ little _ , because she’s the light of our lives and all that, and we’d both be lost without her?” Darcy steps into his closet, even as he unbuckles his pants. He follows her a moment later, just in time to catch something pinstriped and Armani. 

 

“This is last season.” Armani doesn’t necessarily go out of style, but the pinstripes are farther apart than his newer suits and Pepper will absolutely notice. 

 

“Yeah, exactly. Pepper will make that face she makes, the one I get when I don’t wear pantyhose. You could skip the tie, maybe wear -----” She eyes the shelves of shoes, pulling a down a brown leather pair that looks a lot like her own boots. Her hands skate over the row of neatly pressed, color-coded dress shirts lingering over a pink one that compliments the peach of her sweater and he wonders if she realizes what she’s doing, making them match.  “Do you want the vest, too? You could wear a pocket square; she thinks they’re pretentious.”  Her hand hovers over the matching navy vest and, mouth quirked into a curious little smile. “Tony?” 

 

They’re alone. It'

 

He drops the suit, let’s it crumple beneath his feet as he stomps over it to crowd her against the back mirrors. He feels reckless the same way he did right before he announced he was Iron Man, right after Pep told him not to. He feels reckless the same way he did right before he flew a nuke into a wormhole. He feels reckless and wild and angry and hot and so very, very sure. He digs a hand into her hair, shaking loose pins and curls. When he kisses her, she makes a surprised, hurt little sound, small hands sliding up his bare chest, to curl over the back of his neck. She kisses him  _ back _ \- just like every other time they’ve done this, only now there’s no pretense, no reason other than themselves.  Tony crushes her against him, needs every point of contact like air or water. He licks his way into her mouth, licks away the taste of coffee with too much sugar until all she tastes like is him. 

 

“Tony?” 

 

Darcy pulls herself away, knocking her head against the mirror, at the sound of Pepper’s voice. She’s looking at Tony with wide, incredulous eyes. “He’s waffling over what pocket square to wear,” she calls back, voice perfectly even, though he can tell by the rapid rise and fall of her chest that she’s just as breathless as him.  She doesn’t run screaming or ask him what the hell he’s doing. Tony can work with it. 

 

Pepper laughs dryly. “How about none?” 

 

Tony presses his mouth to her ear, hands still buried in her hair. “I don’t want Bethany fucking Noble,” he tells her, very, very quietly, grinning at the way her body trembles against his own. He reaches past her, to his box of very pretentious pocket squares, and picks a peachy pink one. “Understood?” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The Thrust SCC is the fastest car, breaking the sound barrier at 738 miles per hour. Richard Noble headed the project. Bethany is made up. So is most of the science tbh. IDK what I'm doing, the words just sound cool. 
> 
> Side note, this might feel a little rushed but like - I can't imagine it going anyway. I've written it thirty-seven different ways and I can't imagine any way that isn't just Tony laying one on her.


End file.
